


Xenobiological Arousal Stimulae

by Pax



Category: Young Wizards - Duane
Genre: Character of Color, Cock Rings, M/M, Myriad Words Kink Meme, POV Character of Color, POV Male Character, Porn Watching, Straight Guy Sexual Scenarios, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-14
Updated: 2010-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pax/pseuds/Pax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kit is going to kill Ronan if he doesn't change the channel soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Xenobiological Arousal Stimulae

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to labellementeuse for betareading and catching my fails. Written for the kink meme prompt "Kit/Ronan, straight guy sexual scenarios: circle jerks, comparing dick size, watching het porn, lending a helping hand + a roadtrip!"

It was remarkable, Kit thought as he lay on his back, how all crappy motel rooms were the same, whether they were on Rirhath B or off the Jersey Turnpike. You had a uncomfortable place to sleep, a heavily-graffitied copy of the standard local religious tract, and a out-of-date video projector with nothing on but bad reruns and porn.

"'CSI: Pegasus,' 'Nine Lives to Live', 'Reactive Gases Six,' 'Law and Order: Exoplanetary Unit,'" Ronan's voice droned from across the cubicle they'd rented while they were killing time. "Jaysus, you'd think they'd have better programming on a hunk of ice – no, wait, you wouldn't. "'RBPD Octarine,' 'Long Conjugation'…"

The holoprojector's volume was already low, but now it went almost silent. Kit stuck his head up from where he'd been resting in on his hands. The sleeping quarters at the small gating hub where they were stuck were limited, and didn't distinguish between large and small species that preferred to sleep horizontally. Half of the room was padded for sleep, with blankets of various sizes available from the proprietor, a elderly Lyrehian. The other half was devoted to sanitary facilities, hidden behind a privacy curtain, and the holoprojector, which was currently displaying two bacteria, one of which was slowly, tentatively extending one long pseudopod to the other.

Ronan was sitting slouched against the wall in a tee shirt (black) and jeans (also black). He'd somehow wheedled extra blankets out of the Lyrehian, and had heaped them up into a sort of pillow. He looked indecently comfortable.

"Why do you keep stopping on the alien porn?"

"I'm majoring in biology at uni. Xenobiological arousal stimulae are always interesting."

Kit let his head fall back down. He had gotten one blanket. It was too short. He wriggled so that a particularly big lump in his sleeping mat was poking into the muscle of his back, and not his spine. The paint on the ceiling was peeling from the top coat of putrid green to an off-white. "Can't we just gate and talk to the flock leader now?"

"The murder leader. Correct terminology, cousin. And no, we can't, we have to wait for the sodding diplomats, because of the whole bit where you seduce alien princesses. Another 'CSI: Pegasus,' 'The Music of the Spheres' – you have to admire the diversity of their porn, but you'd think someone would think of some better titles."

"Murder is for crows," Kit said over the sound of the sphere porn channel, which would have been nice if he didn't know exactly what the pretty chimes meant, and could you even do that without any right angles on your planet? "These are more like rooks; they're a parliament. Except they're alien rooks, so who knows what the English would be, except they're avian, so flock."

Ronan changed the channel. Kit wondered if it would be worth it to power a wizardry to peel just the top coat of paint. Probably not: the ceiling had the same lumpy look as the railings at school, the ones that had peeled and been painted over so many times that they resembled miniature topographic models. He settled for closing his eyes and saying "I think they're less concerned with my being tricked into one relationship with an alien princess years ago than they are with you blowing up that ziggurat last month."

"Whatever, it was the keystone in that damn power-siphoning spell, and hideous besides."

"It was a priceless cultural artifact!"

"I repeat, whatever. 'Hot Engorged Cloacae 4 U,' 'As the Moon Orbits,'… hey, this porn is humanoid!"

Kit cracked an eye open. Sure enough, the wall was now full of a female humanoid vigorously riding a male. Apart from the green skin and the split tongue, visible when the woman reached down to lick her way up the man's neck, it could have been Skinemax from back home. A small counter was visible in the lower part of the screen, ticking over at regular intervals.

It was kinda hot.

The female let out a low moan as the male bit her shoulder. His teeth left two perfect semicircles of darker green marks on her skin.

Scratch that.

It was really hot.

Kit was beginning to regret having changed into his pajama pants. He sat up and pulled his knees to his chest to prevent any unfortunate tenting issues. "Dude, change the channel."

"No," Ronan said absentmindedly. "I don't think it's actually porn – I think it's a game show." Just then, the view shifted to another couple, who were making use of some sort of specialized furniture. "Yeah, see? The timer is how long they've been shagging."

Kit shifted. "Seriously, change the channel. It's not right."

"What, pornographic alien game shows can't compare to the tender memory of Nita?"

"Shut up," Kit said, trying for nonchalance. Something in his tone must have been off, though, because Ronan sat up.

Ronan stared at him. "You haven't shagged yet." It was a statement, not a question.

Kit stiffened. "What? No, I mean, of course, we –"

"Say it in the Speech, you sad bastard."

Kit said nothing, just set his jaw.

"My god, you haven't. You've been dating for ages –"

"A gentleman doesn't –"

"Ages. You're like puppies, the both of you."

Kit blushed. "Go back to your damn alien porn."

"You're daft about her, she's smitten with you, you're both of age –" Kit opened his mouth to protest, but Ronan continued. "You're both of age in every country on Earth that wasn't founded by religious twats – I know the state of science education in the States is pretty grim, but I assume you know which bits go where?"

"Yes, Ronan, we know which bits go where," Kit said dryly.

"Then what's the holdup?"

"None of your damn business," Kit said, and Ronan was quiet for a while. On the holoscreen, the counter ticked over, and another set of numbers appeared in front. The spectators cheered.

"How long have they been, I mean, how long now?" Kit asked, trying to fill the awkward silence. Ronan looked up at the ceiling, lips moving as he did the conversion.

"Just a mo'. I think it's been about … carry the two, convert the lunar cycle … about three Earth days?"

"Three _days_?"

Ronan nodded, apparently satisfied with his math. "Three days, give or take an hour. Their orbit's irregular and they go by sunrises."  
Entire species had been created in less time than the aliens in Ronan's porn had been having sex.

"How do they – three days?"

"Yeah, they're Heliots, from the neighboring ice rock. Their species evolved advanced control over their lymphatic flow to prevent brain death at aphelion." Ronan shrugged. "I guess they repurpose it sometimes."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

They both sat in a silence broken only by the increasingly ragged moans coming from the Heliot cowgirl. Kit shifted again, trying to relieve some pressure discreetly. Ronan stretched, his tee-shirt riding up to reveal a thin strip of stomach.

"So, are you impotent?"

He had, he thought, been very patient with Ronan, what with the porn and the personal inquiries and the jibes about the alien princess, which really had not been his fault. This, he decided, was the last straw. He launched himself at Ronan.

It had been a while since he had been in a fight, but some things you never forgot. Always throw the first punch, because surprise can help you win when you're outmatched; protect your groin; and always, always try to be on top.

Kit had never been good at fights.

"Hah, hit a sore spot there, did we?" Ronan said, his shins digging into Kit's thighs. He had Kit's hands pinned above his head, too-long black hair falling down as he smirked. "Or," he added, his eyes flicking down to Kit's pajama pants, where the tenting issue was rearing its ugly head, "maybe not."

Ronan dropped, his legs sliding out so that he was now sitting directly on Kit, the placket of his jeans brushing Kit's groin on the way down just as the female on the holoscreen (not the cowgirl, the one with the creative furniture) let out a keening moan. Kit couldn't help it; his hips jerked up as he stifled an undignified sound that went something like "Ymmph."

"Huh," Ronan said, raising an eyebrow. "Hit a sore spot, all right, just not the right one. You're randy for just some porn and a tussle. It's not a question of … stamina, is it?"

"Fuck. You," Kit snarled, trying to work his hands free.

"Ah, stamina to be sure. What's the matter, Kitling? Pecker too eager to pop? You know there are ways to fix that."

"Yeah, I just concentrate on working out a spell to make your balls recede, and suddenly I can go all night."

Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Cute. Most of my mates just do footie scores. I was talking about something more like this." He grabbed Kit's pajama pants and pulled them down. Kit nearly gasped as the too-cold air of the station hit his dick.

He didn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't Ronan circling the air just around the base of Kit's dick with one finger, muttering a spell under his breath. Kit made out the words for "bind" and "squeeze," but also one that translated as something like "LIGHTLY, dammit," and a wizard's knot with a verbal release that Kit didn't quite catch. Just after Ronan spoke the knot, Kit did gasp, as a gentle but firm pressure settled around the base of his cock.

"There," Ronan said, getting up. "One wizard's cockring, at your service. I'll send you the spell by manual. Consider it a 'Lay Her, Already,' present."

Kit had been wrestled to the ground, indecently exposed, and subjected to alien porn, all in the last half-hour. He felt justified in saying, "Huh?"

"Wi-zard's. Cock. Ring," Ronan enunciated. "Shag all you want, you won't jizz while it's on. Go on, try it."

"What? Shag – I mean, have sex with who? You?"

"I'm not that kind of girl," Ronan said dryly, despite having just provided what Kit thought was an awful lot of evidence to the contrary. "I meant wanking. I can step behind the curtain if it offends your delicate sensibilities."

Kit paused for a moment. On the one hand, he'd been molested in ways that he wasn't sure counted as cheating, but which probably came close, and he rather thought that that was an ass-kicking offense. On the other hand, he'd just been handed a spell that could help him get past That Time On The Sofa, The One We Don't Mention, and That Other Time On Mars, With The Chafing.

"Go away."

"Good lad." Ronan snagged his iPod from his backpack and made a great show of putting on his earphones, then went into the sanitary facilities, whistling. Kit found himself alone. On the holoscreen, the cowgirl Heliot bounced. The timer ticked over again.

Okay, so, masturbating. Kit wriggled out of his pajama pants, then stole some of Ronan's extra blankets and propped himself up so he had a good view. He tentatively explored the spell with his fingers, trying to determine the edges. It wasn't visible, true, but he could feel a sort of hardening of the air extending about a quarter inch in all directions at the base of his cock. It wasn't painful, just – firm. He ran one finger up the long vein on the bottom of his dick, up to the flaring ridge, and circled around before curling his fingers around the tip. So far, so good. He'd come from less.

He began taking long, careful strokes, moving almost gingerly over the surface. He could feel the pressure in his balls and spine, tingling all the way down to one foot, but the hardness at the base of his cock seemed to be holding it back. He added a twist to the upstroke, a trick that had worked many late nights, and the pressure built still more, until it became an ache. Faster now, he took his other hand, cupped his balls, licked his hand and went back to stroking, and still he didn't, he hadn't –

"Ronan!"

"Wrong name!" Ronan called from behind the screen, awfully fast for someone who was supposed to be listening to music.

"How do you get this damn thing off?"

"Ah, so glad you asked," he said, sauntering out from behind the curtain, then stopped and swallowed. Kit scrabbled for a blanket, a shirt, anything to cover himself up. He knew how he must look; tee shirt still on, hair mussed, and pantless, his dick bobbing red in the air.

Ronan recovered himself, striding across the room and kicking the blankets away before grabbing Kit's hands and sitting on his legs again. "As I said, so glad you asked, because the fine art of oral satisfaction is another point I'd meant to cover, as one with an interest in dear Nita's health and welfare."

"If you're so interested in her welfare, why are you trying to get her boyfriend to cheat on her?" Kit asked, trying again to free his hands.

"This isn't cheating, it's education. Completely different category of carnal knowledge," Ronan said. "If you're worried about your virtue, though, I can bugger off to parts elsewhere, or get my own cube. Just say the word."

Kit swallowed. He was half-naked, pinned by a boy with a good four inches and three years on him, and out of his mind with the need to get off.

"No word. Or rather, just the word to get out of this spell."

"So," Ronan said, grinning. "Oral satisfaction."

Kit groaned. Ronan continued, merciless. "Pay attention, this is important. I'll let you have your hands if you promise not to be naughty and try to hit me. Be a good boy. Masturbate." Kit nodded, and Ronan let go of his hands. Kit immediately covered his groin, partly in modesty and mostly because his dick still ached.

"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, the keys to good oral are enthusiasm and patience. Enthusiasm. If your eyelids are clean, you're doing it wrong. Really take the time to explore – suckle at bits that want sucking, lick up and down the labia. Use tongue and lips and just the slightest bit of teeth, if she likes it. Go sideways, backways, frontways, all the ways you can think of and some that'll occur to you in the doing. Take the time to pull back, kiss and bite at her thighs. Thighs, Kit, are incredibly sensitive. Take it from a manslut. Thighs. Then, when she's wet and writhing, head back in and concentrate on what worked. Get creative. Show some enthusiasm."

Kit had begun stripping his dick again, completely unconscious of the action. Ronan's words had worked their way in and up and down his spine, insinuating themselves into his brain and driving him completely mad. He knew he should teleport out, run, beg Nita for forgiveness, look up the spell in his own damn Manual – but he didn't want to, not really, not when Ronan was staring at him and talking in that damn accent and that damn black tee-shirt and those damn -

"Um," Kit said thickly. "You're leaking."

Ronan didn't bother to look down. "Yes, I am."

"You're leaking through jeans."

"You're a clever one. Shut up. Patience. Girls can be slow to really get going. I don't know about Nita, contrary to what your jealous little melodramatic heart may whisper in your ear, but most girls take patience. Go slow, and pay attention to the little twitches and gasps, because you'll not often get more than that to be going on with. Girls, Kit, mightn't just say, 'Yes, that, harder.' They mightn't tell you 'No, that thing, there, with your tongue, that was better.' They mightn't twine their hands in your hair and pull when you get it just exactly right, because they are ladies, and mightn't want to choke you when they thrust, no matter how much you want it. Kit?"

"Yeah?"

_"I'm not a bloody girl."_

And Kit wasn't jacking off anymore, he was fumbling at Ronan's jeans as the older boy fell backwards, swatted Kit's hands away and undid the button for himself before Kit got the zipper, pulled down his boxers (blue with stripes, huh), yanked out Ronan's cock and started licking around the head while Ronan's hands scrabbled at his too-short hair, and then oh, down, trying to fit as much in as he could while still working his tongue in some kind of pattern and then screw the pattern, just going for more, gagging a little, while far off there was a crash and a familiar female voice screamed "COME, COME!" in the Speech.

And then he was, coming like a shot, the pressure from the spell gone. Ronan followed a few seconds after, and JESUS that tasted horrible. Kit spat to one side and wiped his mouth as he looked up.

The privacy curtain was down on the ground, tangled around a mortified-looking Nita. Her cheeks were red as she shuddered, one hand down her jeans, through what looked like the last stages of a really incredible orgasm.

"Um," she said.

"Um," Kit said.

"Bloody hell," Ronan said as he sat up and adjusted his jeans. "How soon can we do that again?"

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes, I did have way too much fun making up the alien porn titles, and yes, "The Music of the Spheres" is a reference to Pont from AWD. If you think I made Ronan too Oirish or not Irish enough, please do tell me, but know that I spent more time on his dialogue than anything else in the entire damn fic.


End file.
